


Honeymoon

by kjack89



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-21 01:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2449541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is trying to plan his and Grantaire's honeymoon, and makes the mistake of going to Les Amis for advice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honeymoon

**Author's Note:**

> Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

Enjolras sighed and ran a hand through his already-frizzy curls. Courfeyrac glanced up from where he was sitting across from him at the Musain, and took a sip of his coffee before asking calmly, “Hard day at the office?”

Enjolras glared at him. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to plan something like this?” he asked through clenched teeth.

Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow at him. “Your soon-to-be-husband is literally planning every single detail of your wedding,” he said calmly. “The sole thing you are in charge of is the honeymoon, where you’re going to spend ninety-eight percent fucking him into and, possibly, through the mattress in whatever overpriced hotel you pick. How exactly is that difficult to plan?”

“Because it’s  _Grantaire_ ,” Enjolras said simply. “Because I want to give him the absolute best honeymoon in existence and because that’s a hard thing to do since whenever I ask him what he wants for the honeymoon and the only thing he ever replies with is me.”

Snorting, Courfeyrac shook his head. “Yeah, sounds real rough to be marrying someone who literally just wants you as a honeymoon present. I can see where that’d be  _so difficult_.”

“Your sarcasm is not making this any easier,” Enjolras told him coldly.

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. “Just take him to Italy,” he suggested. “Grantaire’s always going on about how he wants to see the art in Rome, and he’s never been able to go. Besides, what’s more romantic than a honeymoon in Rome?”

Enjolras nodded thoughtfully, something unreadable in his expression, and jotted something down on the pad of paper in front of him.

* * *

 

“Paris,” Joly said confidently. “He’s always wanted to go to Paris, to see the Louvre and the Musée d’Orsay. Of course, I think he also said something about wanting to go to Versailles, but I think he’d probably understand why you might want to skip that particular location.”

Enjolras nodded seriously, his brow furrowed. “So you think he’d rather go to France than, say, Italy?”

Joly and Bossuet glanced at each other and shrugged. “Why not both?” Joly suggested. “They’re not particularly far apart and you can fly, or even more scenically, take a train through the countryside.”

Bossuet sighed longingly. “Makes me want to do our honeymoon over again,” he said wistfully.

Joly patted his knee. “That’s because you spent most of our honeymoon in the hotel room suffering from a touch of Montezuma’s revenge,” he said patiently. “Which was not your fault, and I promise I had a good time regardless.”

Though Bossuet nodded, he nonetheless perked up instantly. “Oh, but if you’re going to go to Italy, you may as well pop over to Germany,” he told Enjolras. “Grantaire’s always talked about going to see Neuschwanstein.”

Enjolras wrinkled his nose. “A castle? If we’re not going to Versailles, I somehow don’t think it’s a good idea—”

“It’s not  _just_  a castle,” Bossuet interrupted. “It served as an inspiration for Cinderella’s Castle at Disney World.”

Joly shook his head. “No, I think it was Sleeping Beauty’s Castle at Disneyland.”

“Either way,” Bossuet said. “You know how Grantaire feels about Cinderella and/or Sleeping Beauty.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “Right,” he said, frowning down at his list. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to add it to the list…”

* * *

 

Jehan took a long drag from the joint in his hand and blew the smoke towards the ceiling before telling Enjolras sagely, “Mexico, man. That’s where you should take Grantaire.”

Enjolras frowned. “We were thinking more Europe than Central America,” he started, but Jehan shook his head.

“No, it’s gotta be Mexico. Think of the possibilities — plenty of art for Grantaire, scenic beaches, you can go to Teotihuacan and see the pyramids. You know Grantaire — he loves that shit.”

“Only because he loves talking about how the arrival of Cortés singlehandedly caused the demise of everything good in the Western Hemisphere,” Enjolras muttered, though he didn’t sound particularly convinced. “You’re sure, though? He’d most want to go to Mexico?”

Jehan shrugged. “I wouldn’t steer you wrong,” he said earnestly, or at least, as earnestly as he could given his current state. “It’s gotta be Mexico, man. Though, I mean, if not Mexico, there’s always Canada…”

* * *

 

Bahorel grinned at Enjolras, something menacing in his smile. “Look, we’re flattered that you came to us,” he started, while Feuilly rolled his eyes before interrupting, “But you should have come to us sooner. Everyone else is saying Europe, right?”

Enjolras shrugged. “Technically, Jehan recommended that we go to Mexico.”

“Everyone goes to Mexico,” Bahorel scoffed. “You have to take Grantaire somewhere unexpected. The whole European artsy-fartsy tour is  _done_ , you know? Take him someplace where neither of you have been before. Like China. Just go motherfucking Mulan all over that shit.”

Enjolras looked as if he very much wanted to ask what going ‘motherfucking Mulan’ entailed, but Feuilly jumped in. “Or take him to Japan. Japan’s supposed to be  _very_  nice this time of year. A buddy of mine from one of my foster homes is stationed in Iwakuni, and he said that it’s a really pretty region if you want to stay away from Tokyo.”

Though Enjolras still looked doubtful, he nonetheless jotted down their suggestions on his notepad. “Well, it certainly would be unexpected,” he muttered.

“Of course,” Bahorel said thoughtfully, “since it  _is_  your honeymoon, maybe you should consider going to Bangkok.” He looked at Enjolras expectantly, and when Enjolras just stared back at him, snickered and said, “Get it? Bangkok? Like, bang cock, because you and Grantaire—”

Feuilly elbowed him in the ribs. “You are an actual eleven-year-old, I swear to fucking God—”

Enjolras used the fight that ensued to make a hasty exit.

* * *

 

Combeferre didn’t even bother looking up from his newspaper when Enjolras asked for his advice on where he should take Grantaire for their honeymoon. “I’d take him to London,” he said confidently. “See a show in the West End, go to the British Museum, tour Westminster Abbey, eat some fish and chips…”

Enjolras frowned. “You literally just described your ideal London vacation.”

Combeferre did glance up at that, mostly to raise an eyebrow at Enjolras. “And what’s the matter with that?”

Enjolras just managed not to throw his hands up in frustration. “Well, see, this is supposed to be  _our_  honeymoon, not, you know, your opportunity to vicariously live out your vacation fantasy.”

Combeferre folded his newspaper and gave Enjolras a look. “If you want an authentic experience of something that both you and Grantaire would do, then why in the world are you asking all of our friends what they would do for a honeymoon?” he asked patiently. “Because their answers aren’t going to be any better than mine, even if they seem less selfishly motivated. Where do  _you_  want to go for your honeymoon?”

“I want to go wherever Grantaire wants to go,” Enjolras said quietly. “Which is why I thought it would be a good idea to provide him with some different options.” He hesitated before adding honestly, “I’d pretty much follow Grantaire to the ends of the Earth if that’s what he really wanted.”

Shrugging, Combeferre opened his newspaper again. “Oddly enough, I’m pretty sure Grantaire would say the same exact thing about you. So maybe that’s something you should think about instead of asking our opinions.”

* * *

 

Grantaire all but collapsed onto the couch next to Enjolras when he got home later that day. “Planning a wedding is  _hard_ ,” he complained, his voice muffled by the couch cushions. “Remind me not to get married again.”

Enjolras laughed and reached out to run his fingers through Grantaire’s hair. “Deal,” he said easily. “I’d like to think of this as a one-time only event anyway. But if you’re not  _too_  brain-fried, can we discuss the honeymoon for a few minutes?”

Though he heaved a heavy sigh, Grantaire managed to sit up and even managed a small smile. “Sure,” he said agreeably. “It’s something to look forward to, anyway. But what did you want to talk about? I thought you were going to keep a secret.”

“Well, I had thought about it, but then the itinerary started getting a little long, and I figured it wasn’t a terrible idea to go over things with you, see if there was anything you wanted to take off the list or add to it.” He grabbed his notepad from the table and flipped to the appropriate page before handing it to Grantaire. “See what you think.”

Grantaire’s brow furrowed as he read through what was written on the first page…and the second page…and the third page. By the fourth page, he had given up, instead looking up at Enjolras incredulously. “Unless my eyes deceive you, there are seven different countries on this list for us to visit for our honeymoon. Just how long are you planning on being gone?”

Enjolras flipped the notepad to the third page. “It’s all laid out here,” he said eagerly. “See, we’ll start by spending three days in England, take the Chunnel to France and then a train over to Germany, and from there—”

Grantaire couldn’t help himself: he laughed. “You can’t be serious,” he said. “This is the most insane honeymoon I’ve ever even heard of. For as many countries as you want to take me to, we’re better off going to Disney World and just going to the World Showcase at EPCOT.”

For a moment, Enjolras was silent, his brow furrowed, but then a slow smile spread across his face. “Well, now, that sounds like a promising idea. I know how much you love Disney…”

“Are you honestly suggesting we go to Disney World for our honeymoon?” Grantaire laughed. “Because after the world tour you just suggested, it seems like a bit of a letdown.” Enjolras slumped slightly, and Grantaire quickly added, “But a  _nice_  letdown. I don’t need a massive world tour for a honeymoon. I’d rather do individual trips to all of these places for our anniversaries or something like that.” When Enjolras still looked hesitant, Grantaire scooted closer and kissed him on the cheek. “Seriously. It’d be a perfect honeymoon destination, with one provision — we don’t stay on Disney property.”

Since Enjolras had already been mentally cataloguing each of the Disney resorts to figure out the best one, this demand took him aback, and he frowned at Grantaire. “Why not?”

Grantaire just gave him a look. “Children,” he said, simply, and when Enjolras continued to stare blankly at him, rolled his eyes and added helpfully, “Children and potentially thin walls, which given what we’ll be spending most of our time doing…”

He trailed off and Enjolras blushed crimson, mostly at the fact that he hadn’t realized that for himself. “Oh, right, um, I mean, we can, uh,” he stammered, trying to come up with an appropriate response.

Grantaire laughed and kissed Enjolras’s cheek again. “I trust that you’ll figure it out,” he told him. “Now come on — if you’re done discussing the honeymoon plans, now’s as good a time as any to do a dress rehearsal of the wedding night, don’t you think?”

Though Enjolras stood when Grantaire pulled him off the couch, he nonetheless hesitated. “I thought you were tired.”

“Never too tired for this,” Grantaire told him, pulling him towards their bedroom. “Besides, practice makes perfect, and don’t you want every aspect of our wedding to be perfect?”

“I’m going to be marrying you,” Enjolras told him. “That automatically makes it perfect.”

Grantaire stopped in his tracks and turned to glare at Enjolras. “You’re not allowed to be sappy when I’m trying to get you into bed,” he complained. “It completely makes me lose my boner and want to just, like, cuddle you or some shit.”

Enjolras laughed and in one swift motion picked Grantaire up to carry him the rest of the way to bedroom. “Well, thankfully, I have a few techniques to get your boner back. Or we can just cuddle, either way.”

“Let me down!” Grantaire complained. “I can walk just fine!”

“Nope,” Enjolras told him. “You’re the one who wanted to practice our wedding night, and I intend on carrying you over the threshold.”

Grantaire shoved ineffectively at him. “Asshole.”

Enjolras just shrugged. “You’re the one who wanted to marry me.”

“Yeah, and maybe now I’m reconsidering it,” Grantaire grumbled, though he let Enjolras carry him into the bedroom and deposit him on the bed. “But I know how you can make it up to me.”

Enjolras grinned and climbed onto the bed after him. “Yeah, and I can guess what a few of those ways might be.”

Grantaire caught him before he could try any of those out, instead kissing him almost reverently. “I love you, you know,” he said seriously.

“I thought you didn’t want to be sappy,” Enjolras teased, though his tone was as gentle as his touch as he told him, “And I love you, too.”

Grantaire kissed him once more, then told him, “Now fuck me senseless, would you?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Always one for the romance.” Nonetheless, he settled into the business of doing just that.

Later, as they lay next to each other on the bed, Grantaire rolled over to tell Enjolras sleepily, “You know, it really doesn’t matter where we go for our honeymoon.”

“Oh?” Enjolras said.

“Yeah. Because when you fuck me like that, the only thing I see is stars.”

Enjolras snorted. “Loser,” he said, though not without affection.

Grantaire just grinned. “You’re the one who wanted to marry me.”

Enjolras rolled over and kissed him. “And I’d never in a million years reconsider it.”


End file.
